Bleach: The Fifth Division Captain

I've revised the name, LMK if you like it or not. You can also suggest your own.

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Colors began to return, and the once hazy future became vividly clear.

Seiya's nosebleed flowed uncontrollably, his breathing ragged. The overuse of his spiritual pressure was taking a severe toll on his body, causing undeniable discomfort.

Numerous paths of potential "evasion" had surfaced in his mind, but Seiya kept them as reserved options.

After all, continuing to evade would never lead to victory.

It would be like a sparrow cornered by a giant snake—struggling, dodging, screaming. In the end, all that would do is waste energy.

To win, he needed to make Kiganjō bleed.

To injure him, to wound him—that was the only way to turn the tide.

Kiganjō was a Captain-level opponent, a position he had achieved through underhanded methods, no doubt—but his strength was indisputable.

The strongest adversary Seiya had ever faced.

But even so, even against such overwhelming power...

It didn't mean there wasn't the faintest glimmer of opportunity.

So...

Where? Where is it? The one future where I can counter and injure him?

Seiya clenched his teeth, his bloodshot eyes reflecting his desperation. His heartbeat pounded louder and louder, like the roaring of an engine.

Finally...

Amidst the infinite, turbulent "futures," Seiya caught sight of the one remaining path to strike back.

Unlike any route he had glimpsed before, this phantom trail appeared bathed in a blood-red hue, radiating an unsettling aura.

The Möbius loop remained unbroken.

The path forward was still rife with danger.

But there was no other way. He had no choice but to take this chance. In the haze, Seiya thought he could hear Aizen's voice echoing beside him:

—Seiya, this is the battle to survive.

The time had come.

The only option left is to fight.

A soft whistle pierced the silence, and time, like rusty gears frozen in place, began to grind forward once more.

The fragile force that had bound and halted time was now completely shattered.

Seiya had no retreat left.

From the broken remnants of his surroundings, the boy's cold gaze turned upward.

His breath steadied, and as his spiritual pressure dispersed, Seiya fell straight down from the wreckage.

The battered boy hit the ground hard, coughing up blood, his face etched with grim determination.

He summoned every ounce of his remaining spiritual energy.

His body, like a soaked towel, was wrung dry—compressed and squeezed until no trace of power remained.

He concentrated it all in one point and prepared to release it.

Whoosh.

The sound of wind rose as a brilliant column of light shot upward.

The viscous spiritual pressure, thick enough to take physical form, erupted into a torrent of azure energy that pierced the sky.

No holding back. Pure, unrestrained release.

The surge of energy tore through the crumbling shop, obliterating what little structure remained.

The sky!

Dusk had arrived, with trembling stars scattered across it.

At this threshold between day and night, Seiya became a radiant figure, as if he were a substitute for the sun and moon themselves.

"What… What is this?"

"I've… never seen anything like it."

The cowards who thrived on flattery and convenience failed to grasp the situation, and now they could only cower in fear of the unknown.

Kiganjō, however, wore an expression of disdain.

"Useless fools... It's just spiritual pressure, denser than usual. Just because it's something you haven't seen before, you let it scare you this much?"

Dragging his steps forward, Kiganjō's lips curled as he let out a faint, mocking laugh.

There were many ways for Shinigami to fight.

Swordsmanship, hand-to-hand combat, mobility techniques, kidō... The Four Basic Disciplines taught at the academy existed for a reason.

But in the end, the battles between Shinigami boiled down to a clash of souls.

And so—

"Reiryoku is what matters most, brat."

Kiganjō spoke with a smug tone as he stepped closer.

The air warped with gathered energy. Members of the 11th Division cried out in terror, but before they could say anything, they fainted from the sheer pressure.

It was as though an invisible sun had begun to rise.

Kiganjō Kenpachi grinned confidently, assured of his victory.

Third-Class Reiryoku.

Power strong enough to obliterate ordinary souls like worms. Even well-trained Shinigami couldn't stand nearby without succumbing to dizziness.

This was the source of Kiganjō's arrogance.

And what could you possibly do?

No matter how strange your tricks might look, your spiritual pressure is no more than Sixth-Class, maybe Seventh-Class at best.

"You, a mere seated officer, dare to challenge me?"

Having decided to unleash his spiritual power, Kiganjō aimed to end the battle quickly. He had no desire to attract unwanted attention or risk a scolding from Yamamoto.

So, die.

His bulging muscles tensed like steel cables. Gripping his zanpakutō, Kiganjō swung it toward Seiya in a horizontal arc.

Boom!!!

The air itself seemed to shatter as sand and wind surged skyward. Kiganjō's strike tore through the atmosphere, surging directly toward Seiya.

It was coming.

The attack of a Captain-level Shinigami, infused with murderous intent and amplified by overwhelming reiryoku.

It was terrifying. So much so that Seiya's body began to tremble uncontrollably.

But—

This was expected.

A faint swish broke the air.

In that moment, Seiya shifted his weight, lowering his body and sheathing his blade.

The cycle of breathing—inhale and exhale—completed in an instant.

His coiled legs uncompressed, springing forward like a released spring.

Seiya's figure vanished, replaced by the crackling flash of lightning cutting through the void.

Not bad.

Kiganjō watched as his energy-laden slash was split in two. Through the severed wave, he saw a battered Seiya emerge, drenched in blood.

Breaking through the attack of a Captain-level fighter was no small feat.

The cost was evident in the shredded wounds across Seiya's body.

His face was covered in cuts, his left eye forced shut by a deep gash.

But it didn't end there.

Kiganjō's blade turned in his hand as he prepared for a second strike. This was far from over—he could unleash hundreds of such attacks without pause.

The blade's gleam flickered as it swung once more, aimed to cut Seiya cleanly in half.

And yet, Kiganjō frowned.

Something felt off again.

The figure in front of him vanished as the sensation registered.

In its place was the shredded remains of a Shihakushō.

"What's this trickery?"

"This is the third technique of the Stealth Force: Utsusemi."

If I survive this, I'll have to thank Yoruichi-sama someday.

Thanks to this technique—

Seiya had finally maneuvered into his optimal attack range.

Holding his breath and gathering his focus, Seiya raised his zanpakutō high above his head.

In the split second when Kiganjō turned his stunned gaze, Seiya roared and brought his blade down with all his might.

Splat!

A vivid bloom of crimson exploded beneath the rising moon.

Twisted and gruesome.